The Owner's Box

Chapter 22

Harlow POV

I was smiling wide as Saint, and I walked hand in hand into Topgolf. After being apart for the past two weeks, I was surprised when she told me she was looking up flights to meet me in Atlanta.

Most women don't do that. They wait until I offer to pay for things, but not Saint, and I love that about us. She also surprised me with flowers, which wasn't the first time, but it's something she does that others don't.

She got me a dozen orchids, one of my favorite types of flowers. I didn't even tell her. I guess she took notice of the many orchids I keep around my house. I appreciate that—she notices the small things.

Tonight, Saint asked if we could go to Topgolf. She'd never been and always wanted to try it, and I agreed. This is a stark contrast to what I usually do. Normally, I hang out in very exclusive places, but since Saint and I have been together, I've been exploring more places I wouldn't have previously considered.

It's been great and enjoyable. To just be able to relax because I don't get that luxury most of the time.

I notice people looking at us as we stand in line, but as always, I act like I don't take notice. It's always been like this. I was six feet tall by the tenth grade, towering over everyone. Then came the tattoos, against my parents' wishes, but now I'm covered, aside from my face.

There have always been reasons for the attention I attract. My mother taught me at a very young age never to falter under pressure, to shut out the outside noise, and never get distracted—her mantra has always been, "Stay focused."

I know the attention tonight isn't because of the tattoos or my height, but again, I won't falter in Saint's presence.

"Hello, how can I help you?" the girl behind the counter asked.

Before I could speak, Saint does. "A lane for two, please," she says excitedly, smiling at the woman.

"Sure, let's get you started," the cashier responds, smiling back. She takes our names and information and then hands us our lane number and game cards. Before I can even react, Saint quickly pulls her wallet from her back pocket and pays.

"Thanks," I say, glancing at her with a mix of surprise and appreciation.

"Of course," she replies, giving me a wink.

We then take the stairs up to the second floor and found our spot.

"Damn, this is pretty cool, right?" Saint asks, looking out at our surroundings.

"It is. I'm excited. I've gone to putting ranges before, but not this," I chuckle.

"You play golf, then?" Saint asks.

"I do. My dad, brother, and I go all the time. Every year we try to visit a new course on vacation." I tell her, picking up the menu at our lane's table.

"Oh, so the Steele's are serious golfers. Well, I don't play, but I'm still about to whoop your ass." Saint says, stepping between my legs.

"You think?" I scrunch my nose up at her, smirking.

"Hell yeah," she says, pulling me in by my jaw as she pecks my lips before pulling away.

"Let's find out." I start inputting our information into our lane. "What do you want your name to be?" I ask, peering over at Saint.

"Daddy Saint," she says, not looking up from her phone, and I immediately burst out laughing. "Daddy Saint?" I question.

"Yeah, cause I'm about to whoop your ass in this game. And later, you're gonna be calling me daddy when I clap those cheeks." Saint finally looks up at me with a straight face.